Bad Creek, page 26
“It’s not an act.”
“You let Glory die!”
Hudson didn’t respond to the accusation right away. They passed the parking lot for Burt Beach—which was full of cars, as expected. The chilly weather wasn’t going to stop the Fourth of July festivities, even if it were actual Armageddon. Even if a nuke dropped from the sky right now, Bad Creek would still celebrate Independence Day.
“Yeah,” Hudson admitted. “I’m sorry.”
“I tried to stop them,” Aidan said. “But . . .”
“My dad hit you with the butt of a gun. Knocked you out. I thought he was gonna kill you. I thought he would kill me, honestly. He still might.”
That explained why Aidan couldn’t remember. Why he’d woken up feeling like his head was full of mud. But a clear conscience didn’t matter if he couldn’t save Iris.
They were almost at the Landings now, and Iris didn’t slow down. What would happen if Aidan grabbed her, threw her in the car, and then drove far, far away? The next generation could figure out the monster themselves.
But if they made it to the other side of the country, would Iris snap out of it, or would she keep walking, closer and closer to this town that wanted to kill her? Probably. Even if she wasn’t in a supernatural trance, Iris worshipped this place.
It wasn’t her fault. It was a perfect storm. Whether from this “spirit” or their parents, there was the constant pressure to return. To forget the bad stuff and relive the good instead. Over and over and over again. Even Aidan had returned. He wasn’t any better.
But Aidan wasn’t going to sit back and follow the rules anymore. He remembered Glory at the diner, telling him, You always hold on too tight.
Well, today he was going to hold on tighter than ever.
Chapter 38 Gum
Gum felt seasick. He wasn’t even in the water yet, but the ground rocked under him. Sitting didn’t make it better. Neither did putting his head between his knees.
For a second he forgot where he was. He couldn’t see all that well. His thoughts were spiky and dangerous, each one ripping at the inside of his brain.
Offering.
Burial.
Monster.
The nausea overtook him. He closed his eyes and tried to think of being anywhere else. Being anyone else.
Bruce lifted Gum up by the armpit and told him to kneel.
Kneeling reminded him of Mass, so he pretended he was back in church. He pretended the worst thing on his plate was the uncomfortable pew. He imagined the lights—swinging, falling, and finally smooshing him.
Until he made the mistake of opening his eyes. The creek was black, with a reddish sheen. He had time-traveled, somehow, back to biblical times. The Nile had turned to blood.
Gum had never admitted this to his friends, but he hated horror movies. He would look away during the scary parts yet still had the masochistic urge to peek through the blanket over his face. He forced himself to witness the gore even though it disturbed him.
He now forced himself to look at the monster floating in the water, supposedly a piece of God himself.
If that were true, then this was God’s ugliest piece.
It had thick moose-like antlers full of cracks and little round holes as if infested with worms. Its gray face was almost human at the top, but the bottom was elongated and flaking off so much, its mouth had become a void. No teeth, no tongue. Just a gaping hole. Its shoulders were burly, bruised yellow and purple. Long arms ended in black talons. It smelled like decay and looked like roadkill. This Spirit was falling apart at the seams—a zombie that had rotted too long, animated only by the magic of devotion and the eternal urge to keep eating. Keep killing.
This was what Gum had been seeing for the past week. Not Glory. It had always been this wretched thing.
“Ah, here we are,” Grandpa said. His knees wobbled as he got up from his genuflection.
Grandpa invited Gum to stand as well. “Daniel,” he said. “The offering is ready.”
Grandpa pointed to the ground, where a cottontail rabbit approached, somehow clean despite all the mud from the afternoon rain. Gum had seen plenty of rabbits in Bad Creek, but he knew it was the rabbit.
The one he’d killed years ago.
Relief washed over him. There, he had buried his chance to impress Grandpa. Now was time for his redemption. All this drama about drowning his friend was probably a metaphor. It wasn’t about killing Iris; it was killing the part of him that cared. Gum wasn’t exactly cool with murdering animals. He ate meat and all, but that was a faraway thing. Someone did that dirty work for him. And though he wasn’t thrilled by the idea of killing this rabbit again, he’d get over it. He would have to get over it. Grandpa was watching.
The Spirit was watching.
It was bobbing waist-deep in the water, leaning forward to gain a better view. Its dark eyes sagged, pus-filled and bloody around the sockets.
Gum picked up the rabbit by the back of its neck. He didn’t know the proper way to hold it. He figured it was like a kitten, where you can pick it up by the scruff. He didn’t want to hurt it any more than he had to.
It didn’t squirm as he carried it toward the edge of the water. The first step was freezing, but the next one was easier, and Gum waded in until the creek reached his waist. This was the deepest he had ever gone. It wasn’t nearly as terrifying as it should have been. Maybe Bruce was right about the relief that was waiting for him. Maybe heaven was real, and it would still take Gum in.
He looked at the rabbit he held—it was a twitchy little thing. One of a hundred million easily replaceable mammals. If this one died, there would always be another. Who would be able to tell the difference?
Then the rabbit became a girl.
She wasn’t in his arms anymore, but standing in front of him, his hands around her neck. She wore a dress with a high collar and giant skirt. She looked like one of those women in photographs from the Civil War era. Then she shifted into another girl. Straight nose, dark eyes, a different old-timey dress. Then she had ribbons in her hair, becoming the broken neck corpse, who’d led Iris from her bed. Then she was the one from the bathtub. Helena. A light bob and big teeth and thin fingers that she had probably used to play piano or the harp or something. She probably had hobbies and secrets and fears that were lost to time now.
The rabbit became his mother, the version of her that only existed in the portraits. Awake and vibrant. A whole person he would never know. But something about the defiant smile on her lips told him she could have been what he needed.
And then the rabbit was Glory, imperfect but sure of herself, daring anyone to just try to beat her. She wasn’t a nice girl, but she wasn’t a cruel one either. And she didn’t deserve this.
But most of all, it was Iris. Always screaming at the top of her lungs, afraid no one heard her. Loyal and desperate, with the least self-conscious laugh he had ever heard. Her heart lived outside her chest, raw and exposed and on the verge of bleeding out at all times. She was delicate. A total crybaby. And yet, she was the strongest person he knew.
“Daniel,” Grandpa warned.
Iris never called him Daniel. She called him Gum, because something about his first name wasn’t right. The professors at school wanted to call him a Clavey, and he liked to remind them that he wasn’t. He was all Clavey now, in the khakis and a tailored shirt, pretending girls were prey. If he caught his reflection, he probably wouldn’t recognize it.
“Daniel.” Grandpa’s impatience was audible. Though its beastly face couldn’t emote, the Spirit was also displeased. Gum had waited far too long. Hesitation wasn’t part of the ritual.
But Gum couldn’t be part of the ritual.
He let go of the girl—the rabbit—the promise that he could ever find his family’s version of salvation. Iris blinked like she was waking from a long sleep. Gum pushed her away as the Spirit lunged for them.
Chapter 39 Aidan
Aidan was no stranger to monsters. He’d been spoon-fed horror movies since he could remember, and Paul’s house was full of vile creatures. Posters and action figures and masks. Maws of teeth and glowing eyes and knives for hands.
But this thing—this Spirit, as Hudson called it—made him stop in his tracks. Hudson was next to him, crouched behind the cover of trees, dumping out the fireworks, while the thing waded toward Gum and Iris.
“Get down,” Hudson hissed. Aidan went to his knees and pulled the matches from his pocket. He checked to see if the Claveys had noticed him. Nope. They were too focused on coaching Gum, who was standing in the too-dark water, holding Iris by the throat.
Aidan’s vision flashed to a nearly identical scene. Trade early evening clouds for a black night. Trade the Landing’s muddy creek for the lake on the north side. Trade Gum for Hudson. Iris for Glory. But that thing. It was the same.
Its eyes were too sunken to tell, but Aidan could swear it was looking right at him.
He thought his brain just hated him enough to conjure extra-horrifying images for his nightmares. But no, it was part of the memory. This was the moose-creature he had seen in his dreams. He’d faced it on the night Glory drowned.
This time would be different. This time he was prepared. He wouldn’t relive it again—no one would. Aidan struck a match, but the wind picked up, and flame was snuffed out. Damn it. He grabbed another one, keeping his gaze on the beast in the water.
He tried another match. Hudson shifted, so his body would block the wind. Okay, so he wasn’t useless after all. But still, the match wouldn’t light. And now there was screaming on the shore.
“Do you understand what you’ve done!” shrieked Bill Clavey. The creature was moving fast, and he couldn’t see Iris or Gum anymore.
Shit. The water here wasn’t much higher than mid-thigh usually. This was bad. This was really fucking bad. Iris was practically unconscious and Gum didn’t even know how to swim.
The Spirit roared, and violent waves rolled away from it in every direction. Aidan backed up, but he wasn’t quick enough. He grabbed two of the M-80s before the rest were engulfed in brownish red water. The waves stained the rocks in front of him, leaving behind deep red clumps.
Was that . . . blood?
Aidan felt like he was going to be sick, but he pushed it down.
“I’m going in,” Hudson said.
“But—”
Hudson didn’t hesitate. He jumped into the bloody water. The Spirit let out another earsplitting bellow that rattled Aidan’s bones.
Two fireworks left. Two chances. And Aidan’s aim was garbage. How was he supposed to throw anything at the beast now, when it was moving away, and the waves were five feet high? Another one came crashing onto shore. Aidan’s boots were drenched. All he could see in the water was the Spirit’s rotting antlers.
Aidan checked for the gasoline can. Gone. Taken by the waves. They were screwed. The sinking feeling in his chest told him they’d lost already. This thing had been eating souls for hundreds of years. Even if he could throw the firework in the right spot, even if he could get the timing perfect, the matches were busted.
But Iris believed they had a chance. And who was Aidan to get in the way of a Garren girl? He tried again. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.
The match wouldn’t light unless it wanted to. He knew objectively that he didn’t have any say in the matter. But he pretended for a second that he could bend fate to his will. That was how Glory had operated. Her ice cream never melted. The mosquitoes left her alone.
Glory had the power to command, and Aidan needed to borrow it. He tried again, praying, manifesting, demanding the match to light.
And the universe, fate, Glory finally answered him.
Chapter 40 Iris
Iris went under long enough for her nostrils to burn. Once she came to the surface, her body was hers again. Until this point she’d been frozen; her eyes wouldn’t even let her look around, to check if Aidan and Hudson had made it here, and to count how many Claveys were standing by. To check if they were armed.
There was splashing. Voices overlapping. She saw the Spirit’s lumpy back now. It must have gone after Gum when he’d pushed her aside. As much as Iris appreciated her friend refusing to sacrifice her to a demon, that wasn’t part of the plan.
A wave hit Iris in the face. It tasted like rust.
The creature had chased Gum deeper into the water, and the monster was too far from shore for Aidan to douse the thing in gasoline. Did they even bring the gasoline?
No no no no. Another wave hit Iris in the face, and she almost went down again. There shouldn’t be waves like this here, and they shouldn’t taste bloody. The water swirled around her. She accidentally swallowed some more. Though she tried to spit it out, she couldn’t get the taste off her lips.
“Do you understand what you’ve done!” Bill Clavey shouted. On the shoreline, two bodies waved frantically, one white-mustached and sturdy, the other leaner, blond, and balding. But none of them dared to go in.
The beast paid no attention to Iris now. It was twenty feet away, circling Gum, who struggled to keep his head above the water. When Iris searched the trees, she finally spotted the plaid sleeves of Aidan’s flannel shirt.
She had to lead the thing in that direction.
“Hey!” Iris yelled at it.
It didn’t flinch. It wasn’t concerned with her. She was nothing—only a sacrifice. She didn’t even have the dignity of being a self-sacrifice. She wasn’t real unless a Clavey did the deed.
“Iris!” Hudson swam up to her, blood-tinted water splashing around him. He tried to yank her toward the shore.
“Wait,” she said. “Pull me under.”
“What?”
“Only for a second. Do it.”
His one good eye looked unsure, darting between her and the Spirit, which was five seconds away from pouncing on Gum again.
“Hudson,” Bill sneered. He wasn’t yelling anymore. “You can make this right.”
Iris actually agreed with him on that.
“It’s the only way,” she pleaded. She cupped her hand to his face. “Please.”
Hudson grabbed her by the shoulders and gently tipped her under.
Iris was good at holding her breath. She felt like she had been holding it in for the past year. But the water slapped her, colder than it ever had been. She’d slip into shock eventually. But she had to stay. Stay, stay stay . . .
Hudson lifted her back up.
The Spirit was heading toward her now; Iris heard its ragged breath, it was salivating at the promise of another meal. She almost froze at the sight of its face and the blood-soaked claws it used to push the water out of its way.
Glory would be pissed to know the Disasters had lost the volleyball tournament again. She would be more pissed if this monster got to live and Iris didn’t.
She’d say, Iris, really. It’s embarrassing.
And she would be right, as usual.
Iris looked to Hudson. “Again,” she commanded. She closed her eyes and held her breath as he dipped her under the surface for the second time.
She’d thought this place sacred, once. She’d thought the Disaster’s traditions were magic. First Night Bonfire was an ancient ritual and friendship bracelets were blessed amulets. Really, they only had power because Iris gave them power. And this beast only had power if she decided it did. This creature—God or Devil or somewhere in between—was pathetic. It was already dying and trying to take others down with it. Unfortunately for the monster, Iris was the most powerful creature here. Powered by her grief. Her rage.
Iris gasped for breath again. The Spirit was five feet away.
“Now!” she shouted, hoping Aidan could hear her. Hoping Gum had found the shore. Hoping the beast still believed it could have her. It was Hudson’s hands that pulled her under, but it was Iris’s choice. She would outsmart this thing, these people. Bad Creek wasn’t a place for saving. It was a place for breaking. Iris wouldn’t fragment. She’d be the sledgehammer.
Hudson had pushed her deep enough that her head brushed against the bottom. Soft, slimy seaweed cushioned her descent. She opened her eyes: Hudson had gone down with her. His blond hair obstructing her view, backlit by a red, white, and blue lights on the surface, bright as the sun. Her limbs were all twisted around with his, trying to hold on another second. Another minute.
They weren’t alone. Dozens of eyes stared back at them. A girl with ribbons in her hair, flowing around her like a jellyfish. And another, with a Hollywood smile. And another, with strikingly blue eyes. Beth. She gave Iris a wave before making way for the last girl.
Even dead and underwater, Glory’s makeup was perfect, curls swirling around with the grace of a mermaid’s. Iris grabbed her, clutching her sister for dear life. But then Glory was rising, bringing Iris with her. Glory’s mouth was moving; voicelessly saying, It’s okay, Iris. You can let go. You can breathe now.
Iris let go.
When she finally came up for air, there was no splashing, there were no waves. The water was as red as a wound. Dead fish floated peacefully around them. Iris pushed one away and realized that wasn’t a fish. It was a talon. And that one was an arm, that one was a nose. These were bits of the beast, exploded.
Fireworks continued from a faraway place on the other side of the lake, one where no one knew about monsters because they didn’t want to know. There were no signs of Bill or Bruce Clavey.
Hudson hugged Iris. He didn’t mention the girls below the surface. Maybe he’d never seen them. “Holy, shit,” he breathed. “It’s over.”
It’s over. It’s over. The Spirit was destroyed. Iris was not. Glory was still very much dead.
But she would be the last one.
Aidan ran to the muddy beach, hoisting Gum out of the water. Gum was gasping like he’d swallowed too much. Maybe he had. The blood, though, was a bigger concern. He had a scratch on his forehead, but the worst of it was on his arm. Three long slices, starting below his shoulder. The Spirit’s talons had gotten into him.
